


The Follower

by theputterer



Series: the AU to the Nonsense AU [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Falling In Love, Learning to Use Your Words, Miscommunication, Pre-Canon, Stupidly Sappy Ending, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 02:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theputterer/pseuds/theputterer
Summary: A man follows Jyn on Takodana.She follows him to the Rebellion.And then he follows her into rebellion.And she follows, and he follows, and eventually, they meet in the same place.[A love story, told in startings and stoppings and turnings and avoidings and, always, followings.]





	The Follower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crane_wife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crane_wife/gifts).



> This story can be read on its own; chronologically, it takes place before both BLOOD BROTHERS and PARALLAX.

He was following her.

She kept her paces even (but quick, she wasn’t stupid) so as not to give away the fact she’d caught on. The man, the follower, was doing a fairly good job at keeping up while portraying disinterest; she only caught glimpses of him out of the corner of her eye, and even then, she could only describe him as _dark, dark, dark._

Dark hair, dark clothes. Entirely unremarkable. Someone to skim over, someone so unnoticeable they were less likely to be ignored, and more likely to be just plain forgotten.

He was a professional. She just didn’t know for which _organization_ he was one.

_Saw? The Partisans?_

_The Empire?_

Her steps quickened.

She was leaning more towards Empire, though the crime she might have committed to catch the attention of that group was less clear. If the man had been following her for a while, then it was news to her. But he must have been, because she would have noticed him before, and the only incident she’d been involved in all day had been helping that little girl up in the street.

It had been nothing. Just her reaching for a five-year-old girl who had slipped on wet stone and skinned her knees. Bending down to help had been as instinctive as trying to outmaneuver her current follower was now.

 _No good deed,_ she grumbled.

She hurried past a food stand covered in skycorn and sweetroot (her stomach rumbled; kriff, when had she eaten last?), destination firmly decided. There was an alley just up ahead, a tiny thing separating a pawn shop and a trading post; the combination of the two here on Takodana meant the only purveyors were the unsavory type, disinterested in getting mixed up with anything not firmly their business or problem.

A perfect place for a quick fight and quicker blaster shot.

She beelined to the alley.

The alley had the benefit of appearing bigger and lighter than it actually was, and so she was unsurprised that her follower stepped brazenly into the alley opening. In a lightning quick move she’d jumped forward, using her momentum to knock him backward, slamming him hard into the grimy stone wall, her favorite dagger at his throat.

“Who the _hell_ are you, and why are you following me?” she demanded.

She got her first look at her follower’s face.

He was taller than her by over a head, with shaggy black hair and a similarly unkempt beard. His skin was brown, the color of wet sand drying in sunlight. He blinked down at her from big brown eyes, eyes so dark she could see her pale sixteen-year-old reflection staring back at her.

No sign of the man’s personality; only her.

He made a small movement, and she pressed her blade more firmly to his throat.

“Easy,” he breathed, but he was the one who stilled. “I was just-- _ah--_ trying to get more comfortable.”

She realized one of his arms had gotten wedged behind his back, awkwardly squished between him and the wall.

“You haven’t answered my question,” she hissed, not letting him free himself.

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m not buying anything.” She hesitated, and added, “And I’m not selling anything, either.”

“Good. I’m not interested.”

Her scowl deepened. Her follower seemed to understand that his time was running out.

“I wanted to talk to you about the Rebellion.”

Of all the things the man could have said next; that had not been one she had expected. She stared at him.

“Well, that’s something _I’m_ not interested in,” she said, parroting his earlier words.

“Just hear me out.”

_“Why?”_

He huffed, blowing hair out of his eyes, still awkwardly angling down to peer at her. He had one of those faces that masked his age, she thought. He could be anywhere from her own age to thirty or so. She doubted he was younger than her. There was something in the way he held himself, even so uncomfortably now, that demonstrated weariness.

“Because I think we have something you’re looking for.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Family.”

Those words were, perhaps, even more shocking than his first request to speak with her about the Rebellion. For a moment, Jyn could only gawk at him, torn between pure disbelief and sheer horror; _he knew who she was._

Some of her reaction must have played out over her face, for he added, “A cause.”

He spoke the word just as smoothly and confidently as he’d said _family,_ as if the two were the same, easily exchangeable, bearing an identical definition. This was not something she did. It was not something she thought really _anyone_ she knew did.

Except one person. Someone she hadn’t seen in ages.

Maybe her follower really was an agent of Saw Gerrera.

“Tell Saw to kriff off,” she breathed.

Her follower frowned. “Who’s Saw?”

Not bothering to give an answer, she backed off, though kept her dagger in hand. The man lifted a hand to his throat, fingers brushing against the scratched skin there. He didn’t wince, only continued to frown at her.

“Listen,” he said, though he didn’t move to approach her again. “I saw you earlier. In the street.”

“Yeah, I got that, since you _followed me--”_

“With the little girl.”

So he hadn’t been following her until very recently.

“What about her?”

“It’s…” He paused, seemingly taken off-guard for the first time. If he regularly pitched the idea of the Rebellion to strangers, then he was either very bad at it, or there was something about this interaction that was throwing him. She leaned towards the former; the latter wouldn’t make any sense. She’d just helped a kid. Nothing extraordinary.

“It was a… very kind thing you did,” he said, and stopped.

She blinked. “Sure.”

“The Rebellion could… It could use more kindness.”

She snorted. “Kindness is a weak currency in a war.”

“Not weak. Only rare. Makes it all the more valuable.”

“Hell, a soldier interested in metaphors. Now I’ve seen it all.”

“Have you never wanted anything more?”

She paused. “More?”

“More than… trolling for errant work,” he said, waving a hand. “Picking credits out of others’ pockets. Signing up to smuggle counterfeit goods across star systems. Not having a place to stay. Living on the run, without running _towards_ anything.”

“What makes you think--”

“Takes one to know one.”

He offered her a smile. It was thin, and crooked, and just on the surface.

But it was a smile.

Smiles had been hard to come by, as of late.

“The Rebellion… It’s more than a side in a war,” her follower continued. “It’s… Something you can make something out of. It can be what you want it to be. It can be what you’re looking for.”

She wanted to say something snarky, something cold: _You’re bad at this._

But the words curdled in her throat.

It almost felt like she was the one with the dagger at her neck, and her follower was the one holding it there.

“You don’t have to sign up right now,” her follower said. “Just give me… Ten minutes. Five minutes. I’ll buy you dinner. No strings attached.”

A hot meal, after _days._ She could handle listening to an ardent soldier if that was what she got from it.

“We get the food first,” she said.

His smile was wider this time. Maybe truer.

“Deal.”

He took a step forward, and she let him, though she eyed him the whole way. Carefully, he stretched his arm out, hand extended towards her.

“My name is Cassian,” he said.

“Is that your real name?”

“Yes.”

There was no way for her to tell if he was telling the truth or not. She was sure he was carrying scandocs with that name, but his fakes were probably as good as the real ones. His expression gave nothing away, no errant blink or slanted eyes, no tick in his jaw or flex of his fingers. His body language was immaculate.

Her follower, she knew, was a good liar.

She had yet to see how good of a liar he was to her.

She took his hand.

“Jyn.”

 

* * *

 

She got the full story in sentences and patches. Over months. Years.

Cassian Andor.

It was his real name.

He was four years older than her, twenty to her sixteen, and she believed it when he kept his beard presentable, and when she caught glimpses of the eyes that could only belong to a man hardened by childhood trauma. He was from Fest, a system she’d never even heard of out in the Outer Rim. She asked him about it, tried to cajole him into telling her about it, but his responses were always monosyllabic.

_Gray. Snow. Cold._

There was nothing about it Jyn found alluring. But she came to understand Cassian kept his descriptions of it short not because he found little to talk about it; but because he did, and the only way to keep the homesickness at bay was to minimize it. Ignore Fest entirely.

Luckily, Jyn had no home at all to talk about, so they left that topic entirely alone.

The most secret part of her--her optimistic part--chose to believe they were simply focusing on looking forward. Moving forward.

The Rebellion was what he’d sold it as. She found people there. People with similarly shattered backstories, parents buried in unknown graves, homesteads burned to the ground. She met pilots and mechanics, soldiers and generals. Most treated her with respect. Some with warmth. A few with animosity.

Cassian was part of a black ops unit. It was something he didn’t hide from her, though he couldn’t have, anyway; his supervisor, a disgruntled general with a perpetually curled lip named Draven, intercepted him as soon as they touched down on base the first time after Takodana. Draven had looked her up and down once, and she’d met his gaze unflinchingly. She still didn’t know why Cassian had taken the time to recruit her, but if she was good enough for Draven’s own soldier, then she’d damn well be good enough for Draven.

And Draven only nodded at her. He did not invite her to join his unit.

She couldn’t care less.

She went through orientation with recruits who were over a decade older than her, but far more innocent and greener than her. She didn’t waste much time there before they pulled her out to join a unit.

Her unit was fairly big, her and ten other soldiers. They were all good at hand-to-hand fighting, skilled at shooting targets across a battlefield, competent at rewiring doors and droids. They got along well enough, but Jyn chafed at the fact her voice and opinion was treated so inconsequentially. Her leaders tended to only nod whenever she voiced her concerns or ideas.

“What’s the point of encouraging input if they’re just going to ignore it?” she asked Cassian, in the mess hall one day.

He stirred his cup of caf; an entirely unnecessary move, since he drank it black. She knew he was only trying to choose his words carefully, a move she always found more interesting than anything else he could say.

“So they know for the future,” he decided, and Jyn groaned.

Cassian was patient. That had probably been the biggest factor in her sticking around so far. He answered all her questions (almost all; if she got too nosey about his super top-secret _black ops work_ he clammed up real quick) and took time to introduce her to people he thought she’d get on with. And he was right, for the most part. At least, his win-to-loss ratio was better than just about anyone else’s.

“The real issue is,” he murmured, “You need a smaller team.”

“Yes,” a robot voice added. “Like how Cassian and I are a small, and _whole,_ team.”

She still didn’t like K-2SO.

Sometimes she thought she only disliked him because it seemed to confuse Cassian so much.

“How can two of my favorite people be so mean to each other?” he scowled over drinks one night, and Jyn choked back a laugh when she saw K-2SO give the exact same dismissive shrug as her.

But K-2SO talked too much. He had too many opinions. He was brusque, and snippy. He acted like he was better than everyone else; and worse, he seriously _believed_ he was.

“Are you talking about Kay, or yourself?” Cassian wondered, and got a handful of Nuna gumbo thrown in his face for it.

Cassian did seem to go out of his way to encourage K-2SO and Jyn to spend time together without him. Jyn thought this to be both a daring and deeply infuriating thing. But _daring and deeply infuriating_ were two things she found to describe Cassian quite well, for better or worse.

She was sixteen years old, and not stupid.

But the amount of time she spent wondering if Cassian liked her as more than a friend certainly _was_ stupid.

 

* * *

 

Cassian returned from one of his unknown missions after two weeks away from base, returned looking gaunter and more sallow than she could remember him looking, so he was not twenty or thirty but closer to _ancient,_ and so she made the executive decision to volunteer the two of them to pick up an illegal shipment of blasters from Tatooine.

“Hey Follower,” she said in lieu of any other greeting, grabbing for the first descriptor she’d ever had for him. It was an odd term of endearment or nickname, and it was usually something he rolled his eyes over; but occasionally, he smiled at it.

That day, he only nodded.

He was quiet the whole way there, and since K-2SO had not accompanied them, it fell to Jyn to pack the silence with noise. She chattered aimlessly, telling him about what she’d been up to the last two weeks (a brief skirmish on Mandalore and then loitering around on base, repairing jackets and polishing boots; the skirmish was almost as boring as the cleaning) and pointing out the systems they were passing by. For once, the lessons she’d gained from Saw and the Partisans was proving to be fruitful and healthy; she knew quite a lot about the galaxy for someone who had seen so little of it.

“You’re good at this,” Cassian said, and the sound of his voice over her rambling was as shocking as a comet streaking through a clear sky.

“Good at what? Talking? Kay tells me so all the time, but less politely--”

“No. Being here.”

That was true, she was very much sitting in this dilapidated shuttle with him, but she gathered from his strange tone he meant more than that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, by which she meant: _Do you want to tell me why your eyes look so dead and your hands have been shaking since you came back from your mission?_

He shook his head. “No.”

He gave her that answer a lot. She turned away.

“But I think… some day. I would like to.”

She turned back.

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

His smile was just as small and sad as it’d been the day they met. This did not make it any less true.

 

* * *

 

The shock of running into Chirrut Imwe and Baze Malbus, of all people, on Tatooine of all systems, was not insignificant. But it was an event that caused Jyn to be unable to smother her smile for several days.

It had been _years_ since she’d seen the pair of them, years since she’d been on Jedha. Both men had aged, new wrinkles and lines running their faces, skin a little more spotted, hair just a shade lighter. But their warmth and compassion radiated out of them; she wished to cling to them, to force them to stay.

“Little star,” Chirrut murmured, touching her arm, the two of them sitting on the outskirts of the jungle of Yavin 4. “There is no place for us here. You must know that.”

Chirrut and Baze might be lifelong partners, but the fact remained that in the context of an army: they were too different. Baze was brawn and glory; Chirrut was speed and quiet. Baze was made for a team like Jyn’s, out in the open, doing the gritty work, fists to chins. And Chirrut was built for stealth, if the Alliance could get past his sightlessness.

“I would love to see them try forcing Chirrut into their parameters,” Baze commented, a smile cracking his worn face.

Jyn worried.

She hadn’t known how much she missed them until they were _there,_ wandering around the Massassi temples, poking around the tarmac, walking through the jungles. They stuck out among the younger, more grim-faced soldiers, but they were still valuable. Still important.

Still _so much,_ to Jyn.

She worried, and ached, and looked at her options, and came to a conclusion she was not happy to reach. And then she did what she always did when she needed advice, needed someone to talk to.

She went to Cassian.

She found him in his room, poring over a star map, taking notes, muttering to himself. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and he had one hand lodged in his hair, the other tapping impatiently at the top of the map. He was so caught up in his work, it took him a moment to realize someone loitered in the doorway.

He straightened, his wary face transforming into something warm when he saw who it was.

“Hello, Jyn,” he said, and she bit her lip, hard, at the affection in his voice.

He frowned, spotting the movement. “What is it?”

“I, um…” She glanced down at her scuffed boots, searching for something to say. She was almost seventeen, was nearly of age in several systems, but in that moment she felt like a child.

Lost. Young. Lonely. Hungry.

Afraid.

“Jyn,” Cassian said, voice soft, and the compassion there broke her.

“If Chirrut and Baze leave, I think I’ll go with them.”

Silence fell.

She kept her gaze down, but chanced a glance up.

Cassian was frozen.

“Oh,” he said.

“Um. Yes.”

“Are… Are they _going_ to leave?”

“Not sure yet,” Jyn said, because not only was she not sure, but Baze and Chirrut weren’t sure either. “But, um. They don’t feel like they belong here. With the Alliance. And I’m…”

“You love them,” Cassian finished, and the easy way he said _love_ threw her.

She’d never heard him say it before.

“Yes,” she said.

“Right.”

He looked away from her, returning his stare to the star map. He was frowning deeply, staring down at it, like he’d never seen the galaxy before.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, after a short silence.

She blinked.

She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but she wasn’t sure it was that.

“Me, too,” she managed.

“I can’t leave. I can’t…” He trailed off, his voice simply going quiet. And she knew exactly what he meant.

He couldn’t leave his work. His cause. The Rebellion.

He chose it all, long ago.

“I know,” Jyn said. And she did. She really did.

She loved him. She knew that much.

In an attempt to lighten the grim mood, she added, “Guess your following days might be over soon.”

But he did not love her.

Not in that way, at least. Not in a way that would compel him to follow her from the Rebellion.

The joke fell flat.

Neither of them looked at each other.

“Anyway,” Jyn said, “I just thought I should tell you. What I was thinking.”

“I always want to hear from you,” he said, automatically.

It was a kind, pleasing sort of honesty. It made Jyn want to cry.

“See you later,” she said, and fled the room.

 

* * *

 

Naturally, it was Cassian who came up with the solution.

Cassian, who gave something up.

For them.

 _(For them,_ she reminded herself, though K-2SO’s indignant and repeated exclamations of “Why change everything just for _her?”_ were quite welcome.)

He resigned from his black ops unit. She knew this to be a stunning event, going by the whispers that trailed him around the base, going by the sour look Draven sent his way. But Cassian seemed impervious to it, instead inviting her, K-2SO, Chirrut, and Baze to a casual meeting in a clearing off the barracks.

“I have an idea,” he began.

They would be a new unit. A whole new kind of group.

A team.

Cassian, fresh from Intelligence, acting as their de facto, and much wanted, leader. K-2SO, bringing his wide variety of knowledge, picked up from working with so many different groups in the Alliance. Baze, with his machinery expertise and wicked strength. Chirrut, with his unique fighting style and wisdom.

And her.

She’d been carrying rage and pain for most of her life. Now, she wondered, she might have people to share those feelings with. People who understood her hunger, and drive to make something of it.

_“The Rebellion… It’s more than a side in a war. It’s… Something you can make something out of. It can be what you want it to be. It can be what you’re looking for.”_

Cassian smiled at her.

This smile was wider.

 

* * *

 

The jungles of Felucia stretched endlessly.

Jyn was so hot she was almost surprised flames weren’t erupting from her body. Sweat dripped off her carelessly, and though she liked to think of herself as pretty fine with getting roughed up and grimy, this was really testing her seventeen-year-old body.

The sun had set over an hour earlier, but it didn’t feel any cooler.

 _“Loz noy jitat,”_ Baze cursed. He’d tied his black hair messily up around his head, and Jyn still had to do a double take every time she glanced at him. He looked strange without his normally wild mane.

“It is quite warm,” Chirrut agreed. His bare arms were also something of a shock.

“Let’s go to Mustafar next, for a bit of a cool-down.”

Chirrut grinned.

“I shudder to think of what this is doing to my circuits,” K-2SO said.

“That’s all that’s keeping me going, the thought of that,” Jyn said, somewhat automatically, and K-2SO’s head swiveled around. He couldn’t shoot her a dirty look exactly, but she felt it all the same.

“Jyn,” Cassian said, wearily.

Like the other men, he was shirtless, which meant she hadn’t looked at him once all day.

“We should get some rest,” Cassian decided, and Jyn heard him get to his feet, moving around their makeshift camp-site. She focused on her bare toes, the thin blades of grass peeking through them. “The Cartel meets in less than ten hours.”

“Like I’m going to be able to sleep in this humidity,” Baze grumbled.

But Chirrut stretched, and laid down.

“There is a… life force, on this planet,” he said, and Jyn watched, listening closely. “I can feel it in my bones. Can you not?”

“I think I can,” she murmured. Chirrut grinned at her.

“Of course you can,” he said, and Jyn frowned.

Baze shuffled over to lie next to his husband. “Wake me if that _life force_ tells you gelagrubs are approaching.”

Even K-2SO managed a huffy laugh.

Jyn got to her feet. “I’ll fetch us some more water.”

“I’ll go with you,” Cassian said, and Jyn could come up with no excuse to dissuade him.

She marched into the jungle, Cassian shadowing her.

It was dark. The daytime wild creatures and critters of Felucia were quieting down, returning to their caves, dens, or nests in preparation of the night and the nocturnal others that would come out. Fungi in all colors seemed to glow, attached to all kinds of flora, and Jyn stepped carefully through the nature, keeping her eyes out for the enormous pitcher plants that dominated the planet.

Cassian was so quiet, she’d almost forgotten he was there, until he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, but didn’t turn around.

“Nothing really,” he said, voice carrying softly over the occasional cry and call of the jungle. “Just. Me following you like this. It reminds me of the day we met.”

“Mm,” Jyn said. The heat of the planet seemed to radiate around them, yet she thought she could still feel Cassian’s very specific brand of heat. “Still following me.”

“You know me.”

She slowed. The thin river they were gathering water from was just ahead of them, gleaming in the dim moonlight. The two moons of Felucia were surprisingly common-looking moons, circles of standard gray light in a sky that was rich in stars, neighboring planets Yamine and Farasu just visible. The rotation period of Felucia around its sun Felix was longer than she was used to, but she thought she was fine with a bit more time in the dark like this.

She smiled, and turned around.

Cassian’s gaze was turned up the sky like hers had been. Like the river and the wild jungle, he glowed in the moonlight, brown skin glittering with sweat, turning him celestial. His breathing was even and slow, and he seemed _lighter_ than normal, though maybe that was only due to Felucia’s easier gravity.

He took her breath away.

Cassian turned to her.

“Beautiful,” he said, and she looked away before she could say or do anything stupid.

She led the way to the river, carelessly dropping the canteens to the mossy ground. She dropped to her knees, dipping the first canteen in; and then she paused.

Cassian, next to her, stilled as well. “What is it?”

She made a show of focusing on the darkness on the other side of the bank, drawing Cassian’s gaze there as well. He’d only just frowned, narrowed his eyes, when Jyn leapt, putting all her weight onto his back, shoving him into the river headfirst.

It was not deep, but it dropped quite quickly from the shore, and Cassian spluttered, sprawled in two feet of clear, warm water. He sat up, hands and feet settling into the gravel floor of the river for balance, and gawked at her.

“I had to,” Jyn said.

“You _had_ to?”

She shrugged.

She should have been prepared for it, but Cassian was always quicker than she expected; in a flash, she was in the river next to him, shaking droplets out of her eyes.

“Kriff,” she breathed. “It isn’t even that cold.”

“I know. It’s disappointing.”

She laughed.

While the river was not deep, it was wide, and so they floated there, feeling the water rush under them. The water brushed against the edges of her eyes, creating a blurred, mutated kind of view just past her vision. It made Cassian a shadow at her side, one she could blink and miss, one she felt comforted by catching, if only momentarily.

“This is nice,” he said.

“Yeah.”

He began moving his arms, and at first she thought he was trying to swim, until she realized he wasn’t actually going anywhere.

“What are you doing?”

“Something I did when I was little. With my siblings.”

Jyn almost drowned herself when she raced to sit up in the water.

Cassian remained floating. He was moving his arms in wide arcs from his sides, swinging his legs to match. At first she thought he was trying to be a seastar, but the movement wasn’t right. And besides--

“I thought you couldn’t swim on Fest,” she said.

He’d told her that once.

He looked at her, surprise coloring his face. “You remembered.”

“Yeah. And?”

“And it’s true,” he said. “The lakes and rivers are too cold, if not frozen solid.”

“So what’s this?”

“A snow angel.”

She frowned, watching his movements more closely. Slowly, the arc of his arms began to look like the flapping of a bird’s wings, and she understood.

“Snow angel,” she echoed. “It was a design you’d make in the snow?”

“You make it sound so much more formal than it is. Was. But yes, essentially. Kids do it for fun.”

“Like you, and your… siblings?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you only had a sister.”

His eyes still stared up, at the starlit sky, the muted gray moons.

“Nerezza didn’t have patience for it,” he murmured, voicing the name of his beloved older sister. He spoke of Nerezza only briefly; Jyn got the sense it hurt too much to talk about her. She understood, and didn’t pry, grateful for anything he chose to divulge even with the pain. “But… Zeferino was pretty good. He was always more artistic than us.”

“Zeferino,” Jyn repeated.

The name was new.

“My brother,” Cassian said, and Jyn held her breath. She felt like something was being unraveled here, or torn down; either way, it was the unmaking, the unmasking of something she had not known was hidden. “Zeferino is four years older than me. We don’t look much alike. I don’t think.”

His use of the present told her that Zeferino was alive.

She’d been surprised she had not been on fire earlier; now, she was stunned she hadn’t burst into flames with the need to ask questions.

But Cassian took pity on her.

“I don’t talk about him,” he said, voice nearly silent over the rushing water. “Ever, really. Because it’s…”

She waited.

The jungle seemed to wait with her.

“He killed my sister,” Cassian said, and closed his eyes.

For the first time, Jyn felt cold on Felucia.

She looked at Cassian, at the peaceful, still way he laid in the water. She studied his closed eyes, how the water brushed his hair calmly, like a caress. He radiated peace, but the words he’d just said, uttered like a confession, told another story.

“Oh, Cass,” she whispered.

“He’s an Imp,” Cassian said, refusing to open his eyes. “But maybe that was implied. I don’t know. He was in the Imperial Military, last time I checked.”

“I am so sorry.”

At last, Cassian opened his eyes.

“Me, too,” he breathed.

He sat up, water cascading off his shoulders, but Jyn kept her eyes on him. It felt like it was just the two of them on all of Felucia, sitting in a river, under a starlit sky and two blurry gray moons. The jungle glowed in shades of nocturnal blues and greens, neon light springing among fungi and ferns, and the weight of Cassian’s truth fell on it all.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said.

He looked at her, brown eyes impossibly dark.

“I always want to tell you things,” he murmured. “But it can be… It’s hard for me, to. I hope you understand that.”

“I do. And, um. Same.”

She had told him a lot, what sometimes felt like too much. She’d described Lyra, and Galen, and Lah’mu. She’d spoken of the ache of betrayal, and the gravity of loss. The color of Saw’s eyes and the movements of the Partisans.

And herself, wedged in and lost in between.

But some things were still secrets, if only because she had yet to find the right words.

“Thank you,” he said, and she nodded.

He was looking at her, intensely, almost as if he was in pain. She stared back, longed to be closer, longed to _get_ closer, and was just seconds away from doing so--

“There you are. I was afraid you’d been attacked.”

Somehow, K-2SO managed to stand out amidst all the darkness.

Cassian gave a very small sigh, and got to his feet in the river.

“Still alive, Kay,” he confirmed.

Jyn only took her murderous gaze off K-2SO when Cassian reached down to pull her up.

The weight of his hand in hers was a novelty, and gone far too quickly.

 

* * *

 

She regretted kissing him.

Very much so.

She wished she could have chalked it up to a heat of the moment thing, something she did on a fluke. But it hadn’t been that at all.

It had been her and him, just the two of them, walking through a marketplace on Corellia to meet up with the rest of Rogue One. It had been Cassian telling her about Treasure Ship Row in the neighboring capital city of Coronet (“It’s got cantinas and antique stores; with _very_ old antiques, some claiming to be from the pre-Republic era, it’s incredible.”). It had been the soft sunlight on her face. It had been something warm and kind churning in her gut.

It had been her, turning, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, and yanking him down to her level.

Not the first time she’d surprised him, but perhaps the most obnoxiously.

She pulled away first, studying his face.

Her seventeen-year-old reflection blinked back at her.

Cassian finally acted younger than he really was, for she decided a twenty-one-year-old going out of his way to avoid her over something as stupid and inconsequential as a kiss (but it wasn’t stupid, not to her, and certainly was proving to be very much consequential) was a very childish move. But it was far from coincidence, Cassian choosing to sleep while she was awake, Cassian taking his meals at odd times, Cassian volunteering to dig out a new irrigation system on base.

“I’ve kriffed it up,” she mumbled to herself in a repair room, only to jump a foot in the air when a hand brushed her back.

But it was only Chirrut, serene blue eyes blinking down at her.

“Give him time,” he said.

She knew things were bad when _K-2SO_ began to comment on Cassian and Jyn’s lack of interaction.

And that was the catalyst.

She cornered Cassian in the side hanger, the one they used to fix up ships and shuttles, the one she knew Cassian had been spending an awful lot of time in. She found him there, half under the belly of a ship, and she wasted no time in seizing the creeper he was lying on and yanking him out.

There was grease staining his cheek, and his eyes were huge, pupils narrowing to take in the sudden light of the room out from under the ship, and she glared at him.

She hadn’t exactly planned to _yell,_ and yet; that was exactly what she did.

“If you don’t want me, you don’t want me, and that’s _fine!”_

It wasn’t fine, not really. But less than fine was their current situation, where her best friend never spoke to her again.

She had gone sixteen years without him, and she wasn’t interested in doing that again. She _could;_ she just didn’t want to.

Cassian stared at her. She scowled, and then walked away.

The next day, he approached her at breakfast.

He touched her hand.

“I’m sorry.”

She swallowed her toast, turning on her stool to look at him. “I am, too.”

_Sorry for kissing you. Sorry for messing this up._

He opened his mouth, and for a moment her heart leapt, for a moment she thought for sure he’d say something, something like, _I don’t want you to apologize._ But he didn’t. He only nodded, sat in the seat next to her, and accepted the glass of blue milk handed to him by Baze.

Chirrut and K-2SO looked between her and Cassian. Baze ate his sausage.

Cassian kept his eyes down, busying himself with his food. But for a moment, brown eyes flickered up to Jyn, and a ghost of a smile crossed his face.

Her smile was shaky with relief.

They would be okay, she decided.

 

* * *

 

His name was Evander, and he was from Eriadu.

“Terrestrial,” he told Jyn, the two of them sitting in the mess hall. They were surrounded on all sides by their fellow soldiers, feasting on a recent shipment of food stuff from Corellia. “But it’s heavily polluted. We’re a tradeworld, and we’ve lost a bit of our humanity to it, I would say. So our seas, our rivers, our fields; they’re tarnished.”

Jyn frowned. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah,” Evander agreed. “So everything’s just… Kind of gray.”

“Gray,” Jyn repeated, and then grinned. “Hey, Cassian, you and Evander should compare notes on your _gray_ homeworlds.”

Cassian was sitting a little further down the table, across from Baze, who was working on a Cerean Puzzle Cube that Chirrut had purchased for him following Rogue One’s recent trip to Cularin. While Baze was not listening, Cassian had been; he blinked, taking his muted gaze off Jyn and Evander to frown at her.

“What?”

Jyn rolled her eyes. “Evander is from Eriadu. It’s gray, like Fest.”

Cassian scowled.

“Eriadu is a polluted wasteland,” he snapped, “And Fest is covered in natural snow. Excuse me.”

Without another word, he got to his feet, and left the mess hall.

Jyn stared after him.

Baze hummed to himself.

Evander whistled.

“Kriff,” he said. “No offense, Jyn, but your friend seems like a real piece of work.”

It had not been the first time someone had described Cassian in that way, but maybe the first time where she found herself almost agreeing with the speaker.

“He misses Fest a lot,” she said instead. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Hey, no,” Evander interjected. “It’s my fault, just blabbering on about Eriadu and _gray_ and homeworlds. Let me make it up to you.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a cantina in town I’ve been meaning to try. I’ve heard it makes great Tapani food. Want to come with?”

She blinked.

Distantly, she was aware that Baze had stilled over his puzzle.

Evander's expression was warm, and friendly. He had dark brown hair and light brown eyes, skin almost as pale as hers. He was her age, eighteen years old, and a recent recruit, fresh from the Outer Rim, in need of friends and confirmation that this was where he needed to be.

She told herself all this, like she didn’t know exactly _why_  Evander was asking her to dinner.

She fought to not look away, to search for Cassian.

He wouldn’t come back, she knew.

At last, she met Evander's eyes, and nodded.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

Evander was nice, funny, and smart. He had a loud laugh, and was good at Sabacc. He was very easy to get along with, outgoing, and a wonderful conversationalist.

It took Jyn three dates to know they weren’t really going anywhere.

She liked Evander, liked him a lot.

He was unafraid to reach out and take her hand, content to spend long walks around the base or nearby forest, to journey into town with his arm around her. But he was shy, too, shy about kissing her, like he was worried he’d hurt her or do something wrong.

He was exactly the kind of easy going guy you wanted on your team, for the long, uncomfortable nights on ugly planets with Imperials patrolling the area every hour. He followed orders very well, and never complained.

He was a good friend.

Just not what she’d been hoping he could be. Luckily, he felt the same way about her.

“You’re great, Jyn,” he said warmly, the two of them loitering outside the south hangar. They kept to the side, out of the way, so no one could spot them, or bother them. Most of the base was aware they were dating at this point, and so Jyn and Evander were usually left well alone.

“Just not quite _right,_ huh?” Jyn asked, but her wry smile took any heat from the words.

“Yeah,” Evander admitted.

“It’s okay. I understand.” She shrugged, and added, “You steal the blankets. We were never going to work out.”

He laughed at that, and she grinned.

“Your team doesn’t like me, so we definitely weren’t gonna last _long.”_

That made Jyn frown.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Baze and Chirrut are great,” Evander said, quickly. “They’re hilarious. And K-2SO is… Well, I gather he’s always like that. So whatever. But Andor doesn’t like me.”

This was news to Jyn.

“He’s just quiet,” she said.

“Yeah,” Evander agreed. “Kind of creepily so, to be honest. But he fits in really well with your team, and from what I’ve heard, he’s an incredible soldier, and a real asset to the Rebellion. So no complaints. He just… I dunno. He never looks at me.”

And Jyn had no idea what to say.

She thought of the kiss a few months earlier, thought of Cassian’s reaction, and hers.

She thought of their resolution that was maybe not a resolution.

“I can talk to him,” she decided, and only partially meant talking about Evander to Cassian.

Evander shrugged. “No worries, Jyn. I’ll see you around?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

He bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek, and she wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

She walked away, Evander going in the other direction. She turned his last words to her over in her head, puzzling over them, like they were a Cerean Puzzle Cube, like she was so close to figuring out what was missing here--

She felt a hand brush her sleeve, and turned, and Cassian was there.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said.

He dropped his hand.

“Good. General Dodonna wants Rogue One in his office--”

“Evander and I broke up.”

He had been half-turned to go, his back to her, and so she couldn’t see his expression; but his whole body stilled.

Slowly, he turned around.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice soft. “I know you liked him.”

“I still do,” Jyn said, and when Cassian’s eyes widened, she added, “As a friend. We just didn’t work out as… Anything more.”

“More,” Cassian echoed.

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other, the sounds of the hangar loud around them, pilots running to their x-wings, mechanics yelling for spare parts and tech, droids zipping around legs. It was a cacophony Jyn was used to, one she might even love.

It sounded dull, next to the weight of Cassian’s gaze.

She met it unflinchingly.

She had made the first move. He’d rejected her. She was living with that.

If he had changed his mind…

Well. It was up to him.

He cleared his throat, and she straightened, breathing in deep, waiting, and then--

“You’ll find someone better,” he said. “Someone who can be your something more.”

She gave a little sigh.

“Right,” she muttered. “Right.”

“Chirrut knows everyone. He can--”

“It’s _fine,_ Cassian. I can get my own kriffing date.”

“I know,” Cassian said, sounding almost offended, like he was upset that Jyn thought he was doubting her ability in this area.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. What does Dodonna want?”

“Mission to Christophsis,” Cassian replied automatically. “The Empire is undergoing major renovations on their mines there. The Rebellion wants us to find out why, if it’s for something we need to know about.”

“Stellar,” Jyn said, and began to stalk off to Dodonna’s office.

In silence, Cassian followed her.

 

* * *

 

The blaster shot tore through Cassian, and yet she felt it in her own gut.

The scream was in her throat, fluttering like a tickle, but the shock smothered it.

She heard it in her head instead, a litany: _Cass Cass Cass Cass!_

 _“Go!”_ Baze shouted, and he shoved her roughly, giving her just enough momentum to break into a run.

The snow of Mygeeto whipped around her, pelting her cheeks with vicious slivers of ice, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes locked on the dark smudge on the white tundra that was Cassian. He had not risen since getting shot, and was rapidly being buried under the heavy snow that fell all around them. She fell to her knees at his side (though _slid_ was more accurate, the smooth texture of her pants creating a surface ideal for ice skating) and scrubbed the frost off his face. She yanked her thick scarf off her head, leaning close over him.

 _“Cassian,”_ she yelled, or thought she did; she was unable to hear herself in the storm.

But Cassian could; or maybe it was only the roughness of her gloves on his skin, the harshness of her movements over his face. Brown eyes blinked up at her, snowflakes curling in his eyelashes.

She stared at him, lost for words.

His eyes closed.

 _“No,”_ she gasped.

His coat was black, ideal for sticking out in a metallic, white environment, but the blood was so dark and so plentiful she could see it on the fabric anyway.

When she moved him, the red was electric on the snow underneath.

She fumbled for her comm, tearing her gloves off to quicken her movements. _“Kay!”_

“Yes, Jyn?”

K-2SO’s voice was muted in the gale; unusual for him, and the first time she’d ever wished he was louder.

“Nearest med center,” she yelled.

“Who’s been hurt?!”

_“Kay!”_

She leaned over Cassian, covering his exposed face with her own. But this only put her closer to the brown skin that was paling rapidly, the closed eyes that were just barely twitching. She could feel the ice pelting her back, blades angling to sink into her skin.

Watching Cassian die truly was like being stabbed all over.

Her positioning device beeped at her from inside her jacket, and she yanked it out with no care, unzipping her coat partially to do so.

Kay had come through; the coordinates blinked up at her in inky yellow light.

Cassian had always been a good half foot taller than her, had always had at least thirty pounds on her; yet neither of these facts were going to stop her from carrying him.

Well, sort of; she dragged him.

Jyn knew this movement wasn’t doing his wound any good, but the fact remained that it was the quickest method of transportation possible. Baze had disappeared in the storm; she hoped he’d been able to fend the Muuns off them, hoped even more viciously that he’d killed the Muun that had shot Cassian. He would have been very helpful in getting Cassian help, but she knew he was probably needed elsewhere. Chirrut had vanished long ago, and who knew where K-2SO had gone.

Cassian only had her.

She’d be damned if she wasn’t enough.

It truly was only her fear that he’d die in her arms that enabled her to drag him to the medical center. The storm was ruthless; she couldn’t feel her face, or her hands, and it was terror and adrenaline and will that kept her legs moving. She didn’t dare look at Cassian. She wasn’t prepared for it.

The medical center rose like an icicle out of the tundra, and she almost cried in relief at the sight of it.

But she knew tears would instantly freeze to her eyes, and it was that disgusting thought that kept them at bay.

The doors slid open, and Jyn and Cassian slid in, alongside a small avalanche of ice and snow.

“Help,” Jyn whispered. She coughed, but the hoarseness of her voice didn’t dissipate; only the franticness of her tone improved. “Help, help!”

Muuns approached, and she initially cowered back, still leaned over Cassian, until she saw the uniforms they wore, the Basic galactic insignia for aid on their chests. Only then did she let them peel him from her side, watching their pale, elongated arms lift him up.

They pulled his coat and shirts off, and she watched the blood still dripping out of his abdomen, oozing sluggishly, his heartbeats falling with it.

When they began taking him away on a gray hover-stretcher, she followed, instinctively.

_He was following her._

_She kept her paces even (but quick, she wasn’t stupid) so as not to give away the fact she’d caught on. The man, the follower, was doing a fairly good job at keeping up while portraying disinterest; she only caught glimpses of him out of the corner of her eye, and even then, she could only describe him as dark, dark, dark._

They were speaking Muun, and so she didn’t understand, and was even more bewildered when a Muun stepped in front of her, cutting Cassian out of her view.

It looked down at her, dark eyes inscrutable.

“What,” Jyn said, so soft she wasn’t sure the Muun’s tiny ears could hear her.

It spoke, voice lilting at the end, suggesting a question.

“I don’t speak Muun,” Jyn snapped, or tried to; she was still croaking. “Excuse me--”

She meant to step past the Muun, but it followed her movement. She only caught another glimpse of Cassian, further away from her, being sped down a hallway by three Muuns.

_Dark hair, dark clothes. Entirely unremarkable. Someone to skim over, someone so unnoticeable they were less likely to be ignored, and more likely to be just plain forgotten._

The Muun said something else, looked away from her, and beckoned to someone.

Another Muun approached, this one with skin slightly pinker than its companion, but sharing a similarly gaunt appearance.

“Please sit down,” this Muun said in Basic, and Jyn would have jumped at the sight of a second hover-stretcher that had seemingly appeared from nowhere, if not for the fact she still couldn’t feel her body. “You are experiencing frostbite and hypothermia. You need immediate medical attention.”

“I have to go with him,” Jyn said, and anger crept into her tone.

Naturally, anger was the first emotion to return to her.

_The alley had the benefit of appearing bigger and lighter than it actually was, and so she was unsurprised that her follower stepped brazenly into the alley opening. In a lightning quick move she’d jumped forward, using her momentum to knock him backward, slamming him hard into the grimy stone wall, her favorite dagger at his throat._

_“Who the hell are you, and why are you following me?” she demanded._

The Muun considered. “Maybe later. How are you related?”

“What?”

“Are you married?”

The Muun mistook her shock at the words for the shock of hypothermia setting in. It shoved her roughly down on the hover-stretcher. Jyn’s head rolled at the change in movement, the blood in her body prickling uncomfortably. She knew she was probably going to pass out.

“What does that matter?” She managed to ask.

“We have strict privacy laws,” the Muun said, taking a careful step back as a couple others approached. Jyn flinched when one reached for her jacket, and the other lifted her frozen-stiff hair off her neck. She winced at the cracking she heard in her ears, and only then realized that everything sounded muffled, like she was underwater. “We do not divulge personal information unless authorized to do so.”

Distantly, Jyn recalled K-2SO talking about how Muuns ran their society with a singular focus on finance and economy; and even more distantly, she could see how that kind of mindset would extend to taking a hard stance on privacy.

But they didn’t _know._

_“My name is Cassian,” he said._

_“Is that your real name?”_

_“Yes.”_

Jyn was eighteen years old. It had been two years since that first meeting on Takodana, when Cassian was nothing but a question mark to her, a ticket guaranteeing her food if she’d let him blabber at her about his Rebellion. It had been two years since she’d pressed a blade to his throat and felt him gasp around it.

It had been two years since Cassian had looked at her, and spoken of kindness.

Two years; and she knew him.

He had a habit of humming while he piloted, a childish tick he’d carried into adulthood, and on the occasional flight where it was just the two of them, they’d make a game of it, him going through a catalog of folk songs and music from the systems he’d visited, challenging her to name the cultures the songs hailed from. He was an incredibly light sleeper, and Jyn had woken him on more than one occasion by simply adjusting her coat or sneezing too loudly. He carried a dagger in his boot at all times, a thin blade with a dark blood stain he’d never been able to get out, a dagger that had belonged to his late father, a man he only ever spoke of with downturned eyes and a frown tugging at his mouth.

Two years; and he knew her.

He was always ready with a cup of caf sweetened with a dash of milk for her, set innocuously on an eating surface in the morning, without comment or presentation. She would shiver with cold on a flight to deep space, only to visit her chair and find a jacket draped innocuously over the back of it. She would spot a family in the street, mother, father, and child, and would turn away with grief prickling her eyes, and Cassian would be right there with her, in solidarity and comfort.

“He’s…” Jyn tried.

The Muun blinked at her, unimpressed.

“My best friend,” Jyn settled on.

And it was true. He was. He was her best friend, the best friend she had ever had. It was not a relationship she would ever downplay, and consider lesser than anything. But going by the Muun’s expression, it did not agree with this mindset.

“I’m sorry,” the Muun said, sounding very not sorry. “But we cannot divulge medical information to non-family without the express permission of the patient.”

“Can’t you tell me--”

“No.”

Jyn was too numb to feel the prick of the needle in her neck.

The sedative barely had to do a thing. She was already gone.

 

* * *

 

The Muuns were not any kinder in the morning.

K-2SO expressed his indignation at their behavior, but even he knew they weren’t being willfully obstinate. They just had laws, and rules. It was easy to understand.

Jyn spent the morning watching her skin turn pinker and pinker.

None of her team had chastised her for taking so poor care of herself. They all knew why she had done it, and were in firm agreement that it was what any of them would have done. Aside from Jyn, the others were fine; Chirrut had a few bruises from blows he’d been unable to avoid, his senses so dampened by the violent storm, while Baze had been forced to give himself an impromptu haircut to avoid his wet hair becoming frozen to his skin. He had an off-kilter look now, and Jyn would have laughed in any other situation.

They knew Cassian was alive. The Muuns had told them that much. But nothing more.

Chirrut, Baze, and K-2SO spent the day in Jyn’s hospital room, as Jyn had given them _express permission_ to be there. It was K-2SO who connected with the Rebellion, confirming they were all alive, but that Cassian’s condition was uncertain.

 _Uncertain_.

Jyn hated the word.

She fisted her hands, watching the blood sluggishly returning to her knuckles, letting herself feast in the pain.

Chirrut sank down onto the bed next to her.

“Jyn,” he murmured. “He knows what you are.”

She knew both who and what he was talking about.

“Doesn’t matter though,” she mumbled.

From the chair in the corner, Baze’s snores were artificial and exaggerated, but Jyn appreciated his discretion in this most vulnerable moment.

“It matters more than anything else,” Chirrut said.

 _I know,_ Jyn thought. _I know it matters, because it hurts._

Instead, she said, “To the Muuns, I mean.”

“Yes, well.” Chirrut shrugged. “We all know what laws are like.”

She couldn’t help but grin. Her cheeks ached at the movement.

The knock at the door startled them; K-2SO was not polite enough with them to knock.

It was a Muun, tall and inscrutable as ever, but one Jyn was sure she had not seen before. It blinked at them all, and looked down at the datapad in its hand.

“Liana,” it said.

“Yes?” Jyn replied, not so much as blinking at the alias.

“Follower is asking for you.”

She stared.

Chirrut and Baze stared.

The Muun stared.

A moment later, Baze snorted, and Chirrut beamed.

The warmth raced through Jyn’s hands, her legs, her chest, and spilled out of her eyes in tears.

 

* * *

 

Cassian looked wrong.

His hands trembled violently, his whole body shaking in dazed shudders, and his skin was alarmingly pale. She stepped into the room, and walked close to his side.

But his eyes were clear.

He knew her.

They looked at each other, and Jyn knew she must look awful, all ratty hair and bruised face, and she tried to prepare a quip for any comment of Cassian’s, something like, _Look in the mirror_ or _You’re almost as white as me_ \--

But the words failed her.

All she could think was, _You’re okay._

She swallowed, and opened her mouth--

“I’m in love with you.”

It took Jyn a few seconds to realize the words had not come from her.

But rather, from the twenty-two year old man on the bed.

Cassian’s age had always seemed in flux to her, and she had always assumed it was due to the life he led, one that regularly inflicted traumas and horrors. One where he had to play a different role day-by-day. One where he took on responsibility and blame fit for someone double his age. One where he’d had to grow up a long time ago.

But in that moment, Cassian looked very young indeed.

He looked afraid.

Knowing that it was her that had caused this left Jyn startled.

Cassian was breathing hard, like he’d run miles to get to this room, to this bed, to this moment.

And, in a way; that was exactly what he’d done.

“Please don’t go,” he said, and though it was said quietly, it was said forcefully.

Jyn’s exhale rattled out of her. She had to close her eyes, to take it in.

When she opened them, she said, “You’re a kriffing _moron,_ Andor.”

He managed a breathy laugh, one that quieted when she took his hand in both of hers. She lifted it to her face, resting his still too-cold skin to her cheek.

“Follower, huh?” she asked.

“Couldn’t remember which name you might have put me as,” he said. His voice was hoarse and splintering, but he seemed determined to speak. He had always tried so hard to talk to her, she knew, and to see him once again doing it was a balm to her heart. “Knew _that_  nickname was always going to stick to me.”

“My follower,” she said, smirking.

Cassian’s smile was tired, but the truest thing she’d ever seen.

“Yes,” he managed. “Yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Story requested by Crane_Wife, AKA serial-napper on tumblr. they have been just a dynamite reader, and I was very glad to get a prompt from them (back in DECEMBER, yikes!). they did ask for something to follow the Roon chapter in PARALLAX, but that story is so closed to me and I couldn't think of anything. I am sorry I couldn't write that; I hope this is an acceptable alternative. [it's sort of like the Roon chapter in that it is SO LONG.]
> 
> the idea that Jyn called Cassian her Follower is kind of tragic, because in PARALLAX, they reach a point where it looks like Cassian will no longer be following Jyn. of course, he ultimately makes the right choice, and chooses to follow her. 
> 
> that choice, after BLOOD BROTHERS, where Cassian went back for Jyn despite thinking she was dead, an act he viewed after as being the truest act of love he'd ever done. PARALLAX ends with Cassian following Jyn to Scarif, and then with the two of them on Roon, content and ready to finally stay.
> 
> If you liked this story, please drop a line. I am here and also on [tumblr](http://theputterer.tumblr.com)


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